Authors Note: Yay new chapter. Business is about to pick up. Thanks again to everyone for reading and reviewing.

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"Memory is the key."

~AI Fragment 'Delta'

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It was Friday night. And he was alone. He would not have had it any other way.

Dr. Drakken walked through the near-empty lair in a robe and slippers, a piping hot mug of Cocoa Moo in one hand and a plateful of brownies in the other. The henchmen were in the barracks portion of his Alpine lair, the very same that only around a year ago had been raided by Team Impossible.

He remembered the humiliation of being taken away by them as Kim Possible stood there watching. To be chased out of his own lair and then clotheslined by one of the men had been one of the many lowlights of his criminal career. However on the upside Team Impossible left his lair completely intact. They were truly professionals, unlike the teen hero and her buffoon of a sidekick who would hit the self-destruct buttons in his lairs on a regular basis. His Caribbean and Timeshare lairs had suffered that fate. And his Rocky Mountain lair had been compromised in the events that had taken place several months earlier. He still remembered them vividly.

Never in his wildest dreams could he have pictured the buffoon being such a terrifying menace. Ron Stoppable had been affected by the Attitudinator before. After all, he had been there. He had been there when Ron's goodness and his own evilness had been swapped, turning Ron into a super villain and himself into little more than a harmless Pixie Scout. That had been okay. That had been business as usual.

But what Ron had turned into was nothing like he or any of his fellow super villains were supposed to be. The boy had been deranged. He had been an unhinged loon that was as bestial as he was evil. He could still remember the blood that stained the boy's face from his primal escape from his prisoner cells when he bit into one of the henchmen. He still remembered the crazed look in Ron's eyes as he demanded the location of the part of the Tempus Simia that was hidden in the lair.

Dr. Drakken for one was happy that Kim Possible had succeeded on that one occasion. He thought about how even Shego had feared a Ron Stoppable turned evil. He understood why now.

Shego had taken the night off. Before leaving she mentioned something about wanting to have a social life and if they weren't going to take over the world tonight then she had better things to do than sit around and watch programs scheduled on the "Friday night death slot" as she had called it. But that was her loss. He had missed an episode of a show he wanted to watch earlier in the week due to an intense plotting session that had run long. He was glad that he had invested in buying the lair a DVR. He couldn't even remember the name of it, only that it involved a bunch of B-list celebrities dancing with a bunch of no-name professional dancers for whom this would be the highlight of their careers. Ballroom With B Actors was it? As he sat down in his recliner he set the mug on the small table to his side and set the plate upon his lap. Bringing the leg rest up he brought one of the chocolate treats to his mouth and took a large bite.

As he watched he found himself spitting crumbs as he yelled at the judges decisions before washing down his anger with a swig of Cocoa Moo. Upon realizing that he had run dry he paused the DVR and stood up to go to the kitchen for a refill.

Walking through the lair he looked up at the ventilation shafts that were scattered throughout the ceiling. No matter what month or season it was always cold in the Swiss Alps. He imagined the intense heat being pumped from the generators into the lair to keep his men and him warm. But moreover he thought about the remodeling job he had done earlier in the year during the summer. Too many times had Kim Possible and company been able to infiltrate through the HVAC system and enter his bases undetected. He had finally taken it upon himself to buy smaller shafts, just as the sidekick has said to him while he was in his delusional and evil state. It was perhaps the only logical thing the boy had said throughout his bout of insanity. Air did not care how small the shafts were. It flowed nonetheless.

And it flowed well. He could barely tell that he was not wearing socks or any kind of heavy clothing while sitting in what amounted to little more than concrete surrounded by ice and rock. To him it was just as warm as the Caribbean.

He could hear a faint rumble as he poured the powdered chocolate mix into his mug. He did not give it much thought. At this altitude in this climate strong winds were regular. Small avalanches were not unheard of. And if one of them did occur he could have the snow removed with an invention in minutes. When he was finished pouring the boiled water into the mug he stirred the substance before adding a few marshmellows in for good measure.

A sudden ear-splitting screech shattered the silence in the kitchen. Dr. Drakken dropped the mug in surprise and it shattered on the floor spilling Cocoa Moo everywhere. But that was of little importance at the moment. The alarm meant one thing. And that was that there were intruders in his lair.

In no condition to fight even if he was trained to he raced to the control room where he would be able to see who was attacking and where. He knew that his henchmen should be arriving there soon. They were trained to respond rapidly to threats. They were also conditioned to lose to Kim Possible every time she attacked. He prayed that it would not be her. He sighed inwardly immediately after thinking that. Of course it would be her. Who else would it be?

Much to his surprise however, and not a pleasant one, he soon discovered that it was indeed not Kim Possible who was attacking him. When he entered the control room he found five figures clad in purple and white standing in a single row facing him. Each had a Greek letter over an orange circle in the center of their chests.

The smallest, who stood in the center of the five, stepped forward.

"Dr. Drakken," the woman's smoky voice said. "Surrender now and come with us."

It was hard to look intimidating while in your robe and slippers. But doing what was expected from you had never been Dr. Drakken's strong point. "And just what does the Worldwide Evil Empire want with me?" he asked with as much defiance as he could muster.

"We do not ask why," another of the figures said as he too stepped forward. This one wore a triangle on his chest. It was obvious even to a man who did not know Greek that it stood for Delta. He always thought of a river delta when he saw the triangle. "We only ask when and where."

"Little more than a trained dog then," Drakken spat. He knew he had to buy time for his men to come to his rescue. "Does Gemini think so little of the bonds of fellowship that the villain community shares that he would send his lackeys to attack me?"

"And that's where you're wrong, blue boy," the woman said. Drakken did not recognize the symbol on her chest. It looked like no more than a right angle to him. "You and Gemini are nothing alike. You're a madman with delusions of grandeur."

"I fail to see the difference," Drakken smirked.

The scowl the woman wore looked like it might be enough to kill Drakken where he stood. Only by Agent Delta grabbing hold of her wrist was he stopped from stomping forward and stomping a hole in his chest.

"We have our orders," he reminded her. "Do not let your emotions rule you."

"Then let's get on with it," she snarled. "The sooner we bring this freak back the better."

As one the W.E.E. agents closed in on where Dr. Drakken stood. As they inched closer Drakken thought he was about to see his life flash before his eyes. But suddenly from behind him the whoosh of automatic doors filled the room and his own men began filing in.

They entered carrying their shock staffs. Red-clad henchmen with black glasses formed a protective semi-circle around their employer and stood ready to face down the invaders. A total of eight of them guarded him against the five purple figures. Even if Drakken wasn't a genius it would not have been hard to figure out that eight was greater than five. His hopes were given a sudden boost.

Still though he wished Shego was standing at his side. She amounted for three or four men alone. And while the battle was in his favor he wanted it to be a no doubter. Sadly he would just need to sit back and watch it unfold hoping for the best.

XXXXXXXXXX

Soft classical music was playing in the background. Well-dressed couples sat at tables for two whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears while large families laughed at the jokes and stories told by their loved ones. At other tables businessmen and women discussed the rise and fall of empires while the peons of society served them bread and wine. And she hated them all. Each for a different reason, but the hatred was there all the same.

Still though, this was one of the better gigs she had received in quite some time. Probably the best since Milan. While in Italy she had had a limitless budget to go about her business. It had been like her old life had been given back to her. Her old life before the sky had come crashing down on her. Before she had been disowned. Before her family had turned its back on her.

Camille Leon delicately used her knife and form to cut away another piece of the tender steak she had ordered. She loved steak. And she loved wine. After chewing on the juicy rare meat for much longer than would have been necessary she took a sip of the expensive red wine that she had ordered. After all, with a billion dollars at her disposal it would be criminal not to use it. The thought made her smile.

Of course if she was asked about the smile she would attribute it as a reaction for the story the man she was speaking to was telling her. A part of her wanted to grab hold of his stupid aqua tie and slam him face first onto the table. Who wore a brown suit and an aqua tie together anyway? And white socks. She simply could not believe he was wearing white socks. She felt as if she was at work again. Her other work, of course. Camille reminded herself that she had to be at the top of her game tonight. This was still a job after all. Underneath all of the steak, the wine, the droning of the man, this was a job. A job that her grandfather had tasked her with. And a job where she would make him proud with her success.

She found it odd that she sought his approval. She could curse him and dismiss his words all she liked. But she still wanted him to know that she was very good at what she did. Maybe it was for his approval. Or maybe it was just so she could rub his face in it whenever their conversations did turn ugly. She did not know. But she knew that in order for it to get to that point that she had to actually successfully complete the job first. She refocused her attention on the man.

"And just what got you interested in this field?" she asked him.

Dr. Langford adjusted his glasses before speaking. "While you see, Ms. O'Neil, I've always found the mind to be a fascinating thing. Specifically the memory. When it comes to amnesia for example, it's not that a person actually forgets all of the things they've learned throughout their life. It's more that these memories have been locked away. All one must do is find the right key to be able to unlock these memories."

Rachel O'Neil. That was her name tonight. That was her cover. She was a journalist for the Middleton Times newspaper. And the man here had something that Gemini wanted. Like most of the other jobs she had worked involving the man, she did not ask what. Nor did she care. But it fell to her to undertake the mission and see it to completion.

She held the handheld recording device up ready to get his next answer. "And you feel that you might have made such a breakthrough?"

The man nodded. "Yes. You see, I have been working with Middleton Hospital for the past five years developing a device that could do just that. The Memory Recovery Machine, or M.R.M., will revolutionize the way we treat patients who have experienced memory loss due to physical or psychological trauma."

"Oh yes, it would be a tremendous boon to anyone who has experienced such tragedy," she said. "But I would not be a responsible journalist if I did not ask the tough questions."

He seemed intrigued by the idea. "Tough questions? What do you mean?"

"A device that can recover a person's memories. I don't think anyone will disagree that this can only be used for the good of humanity."

"Of that I have no doubt."

"However..." she hesitated. She had to get him on the edge of his seat. "One might think that it could be used for evil as well."

He seemed surprised to say the least. But this was what she wanted. She wanted him to reach deep down and tell her everything she needed to know. The best way to get him to spill the beans was to question the morality of the device he had worked on for the past five years. To make him defend himself and his machine. And at the same time she would be puffing up his ego. He would have to play the brilliant scientist who needed to educate the beautiful ignorant woman. And by doing so he would let his alpha male instincts run wild. Once the dog was unleashed it would be even easier to manipulate the other aspects of his manhood.

"Evil? What are you implying?"

"Could such a powerful device capable of restoring memory also be used to erase memory? One would have to think that it is at least possible."

Langford nodded grimly. "Ah, I understand what you mean now," he said as he folded his hands on the table in front of him. "It is in fact possible to... erase memories. Though the device would never be used for such a heinous act."

"How could this happen? Is the device not safe?"

"It is perfectly safe," he insisted. "Just as dynamite was invented for the purpose of mining, it was also taken away from its original purpose to be used for evil. Many great triumphs in the name of science have been corrupted by evil men to be used for greed and power."

He was flustered now. His blood was flowing.

"The M.R.M. is a tool for the good of humanity. However, if it were to fall into the wrong hands, yes, it could be used to erase memories. If the parapulser power cell was placed backwards into the M.R.M. the process could be reversed." He paused, seemingly unsure of how to continue at this point. "I do apologize for my outburst. I kindly ask that you do not include these remarks in the article. We can't give people the wrong idea about just what this invention means for the good of humanity."

She acted interested. She had to act interested. It was an interview after all. She noticed the way the man puffed himself up every time he spoke into the recording device. As if he thought that it could see him as well as it heard him. Stupid fool. That's all he was. A brilliant, stupid fool.

"You're certainly right in that," she agreed. "This sounds like a wonderful breakthrough that the entire world will benefit from. It would not surprise this journalist if the name Dr. Langford will soon be held in such high regard as Jonas Salk and Alexander Fleming."

Stroke the ego. And make him think that you'll stroke more. That was her game.

She noticed Langford blush slightly being mentioned with two of the most important men in the twentieth century. "Well, I don't know about that..."

"I do," Camille said as she moved across the table, grasping his right hand in one of her own. She began rubbing her thumb along the top of his hand. "I never knew that science could be so... sexy," she purred.

She wanted to vomit. The man was old enough to be her father. And he was certainly no looker. Here sat a man who had devoted his entire life to science. He had no wife or children. Had he had a wife then this plan would probably not have worked. She assumed that was why Gemini had taken this route rather than a more direct approach.

"Well, I, um, ahem," he stuttered as he struggled to respond to the physical stimuli.

"Do you think that maybe when this interview is over that I can see it? I'm sure the paper would love all of the juicy details if I could see it up close and personal."

The man wiped a bead of sweat away from his forehead. "Well, I'm not sure if it would be appropriate to visit the lab after hours..."

"Oh, Dr. Langford," she smiled. "Don't you know that all of the best kinds of hands-on research occurs after hours?"

"I, um..."

She moved closer to whisper into his ear. "And the hands-on research is never appropriate..."

"Check, please," he called to the waiter.

XXXXXXXXXX

Agent Gamma stalked through the corridors of Dr. Drakken's Alpine lair. Her mask was torn off and her face was bleeding. At this point she simply wanted to find a mirror. She wanted to assess the damage that had been done. The fight had been tougher than she had expected. It had not gone well from the start.

The briefing had informed her that the fatal flaw in all of Drakken's lairs was that his ventilation shafts were large enough to fit even a large human being through. That was how Kim Possible always got in. That was how she was going to lead her team in. But they had found that the lair had been remodeled. The vents could now barely fit a cat in comfortably. So they had to use a door. And doors meant alarms. And alarms meant that there was no room for stealth or infiltration. She had been pissed off right from the beginning.

As she found her way to a bathroom she turned on the lights and looked in the mirror. As always she found herself admiring and hating the person she saw looking back at her. Shoulder length blonde hair was matted with blood and sweat from the battle which had just taken place. The single brown eye that she still had saw that she had a gash on her forehead and numerous cuts and scrapes on her jaw and cheeks. The scar that ran down the left side of her face was interrupted only by the milky white eye that could see nothing anymore but hatred. It had been several years since her encounter with the Global Justice agent Terry Bull had cost Gamma her left eye. She had inflicted a scar of her own on his face. However she still owed him an eyeball before things were even.

Despite the scar she could not completely mourn the loss of her eye. The way she thought about it, the loss of her eye brought her closer to Gemini. It gave them one more thing in common that the two shared. And for that and that alone she was happy about it. It really was the only way she could look at it without being consumed with burning hatred. It was a badge she would wear with honor.

After cleaning her face and placing a few bandages on the more severe wound she exited the bathroom and headed back to the main control room. There she saw her team preparing the target for extraction.

Dr. Drakken's hands were bound behind his back. He was still wearing his robe and slippers. His men were similarly tied up and sat single file against the closest wall. And there they would stay until Shego returned to find them in that state, and her employer missing. She wondered how the woman would react.

What had angered Gamma almost as much about the ventilation shaft was the fact that Shego had not been there. Gemini had put her on this assignment because he felt that her skills were slipping. He had intended for her to get field experience against one of the most skilled martial artists in the world. While her first choice would have been Kim Possible, Gamma had relished the thought of testing her skills against Shego. But it would not be this day.

She approached Agent Delta as he stood there working with a handheld device. Cold, logical Delta. Always going over every detail with a fine tooth comb. He was no doubt collecting details of the furniture placement so he could make an accurate report on the lair's feng shui to Gemini.

Agents Sigma and Omicron were outside bringing their tiny hover jet around for the team's extraction. That left only one member of their team remaining...

"Agent Gamma!" a man called out.

She turned to see Agent Omega trip and fall as he ran over to her. She glared at him with her one working eye as he picked himself back up. For the life of her she could not understand why Omega was still a part of the Worldwide Evil Empire. Despite him being a member of the organization for longer than most of the other agents, herself included, he had not advanced a single rank. He had started at the bottom of the barrel, the last letter of the Greek alphabet. And there Omega stayed. For some reason Gemini seemed to tolerate this man.

But at least he was not carrying that ridiculous steel briefcase that he always had on his person whenever he was in the lair. No one knew what it contained or why he carried it. Any such questions were met with silence as he would stare blankly at you as if he did not know himself what was inside the briefcase. In the end all you could do was walk away from a man as stupid and incompetent as him. It was for these reasons and more that Gamma had been both shocked and angered when her briefing had told her that he was coming along.

"What is it, Omega?" she growled.

"I just thought I'd let you know that I've completed my search of the base. The perimeter is clear. All hostiles have been accounted for. There are no further threats to this operation."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Thank you, Omega," she said as coldly as possible. Of course there were no more threats. She and Delta had made sure of that after they had taken out the eight of Drakken's henchmen. The only reason she had sent Omega out on that redundant mission was to get him out of her hair.

"Permission to interrogate the prisoner?" he asked.

Another excuse to get him away from her. "Verbal interrogation granted. Physical interrogation is off limits. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Good. Go. Now."

Omega did as he was told. He approached Drakken and lead him over to a set of chairs.

"Now you will tell me what it was that you were planning tonight," Omega said to him.

"Working on? What are you talking about? I was eating brownies and watching TV."

"Subject is being non-cooperative," Omega scribbled down on a tiny notepad. "Will not answer my questions."

"What? Are you insane or just stupid? And I'm not your subject. If anything I'm a prisoner! At least refer to me in the correct context!"

"Subject prefers to be called 'prisoner'. Unknown whether or not this is in preference to Dr. Drakken."

"Stop writing down what I'm saying! And yes, call me Dr. Drakken! It's a name that I earned!"

"Subject is easily irritated. Almost as much as Agent Gamma."

"You are... the worst henchman I have ever seen. And believe me, I've seen a lot of them."

Moments later Agent Delta informed them that their ride had arrived. With the other two waiting outside, Gamma, Delta and Omega escorted Dr. Drakken out of the lair and into the hoverjet. The flight back to their headquarters on the other side of the world would take several hours. However, like Global Justice, the Worldwide Evil Empire had access to hover jets that would cut the time to a fraction of what it would take a commercial jet to reach their destination. Their mission had been a success. Now they only had to bring back the spoils of war.

XXXXXXXXXX

The lab was dark when they entered. People were not supposed to be there at this time of night. And certainly they were not supposed to be there for what they were about to do.

Camille watched as the eager fool turned on the lights and practically skipped toward the office where the controls to the security cameras were. He had agreed that it would be in their best interests to turn the cameras off. If she was going to get an exclusive private interview of him and the M.R.M. then it would be best to have no potential witnesses. It would be especially useful to have no witnesses for what was really going to happen.

Dr. Langford emerged from the office and came back to her. "So, where shall we begin?"

"Well, first..." Camille started before pulling him in for a kiss. He had to get something out of it first. He had to believe it was going somewhere. Only then would she gain his full trust. "First let me just thank you for granting me this interview. The readers will love it. And they'll love having a picture of the M.R.M. to go along with the article."

The scientist seemed stunned from the display of passion. "Well, I, um..."

Stumbling mumbling fool. Camille thought bitterly. Hurry up.

"Do you think I can see it?" she asked. "The sooner I get all of the info for my article on memory research the sooner we can start on biology."

"Yes, of course," he said hurriedly.

Dr. Langford walked to a large vault that was built into the wall. After punching in the number code the door made an audible click and he pulled it open. Inside was a single item. The Memory Recovery Machine.

The device was a helmet, a tall black dome that looked like a rounded cone. A pair of blue translucent tubes coiled on both sides of the helm while ear pieces helped to keep it securely on your head. Camille could not help but compare it to the Attitudinator. It gave off the same vibe of "mind-warping chaos". After experiencing the effects Attitudinator had on a person first hand she did not want to be around whoever this thing was used on.

"It's... big," she managed to say. With the memories of the Attitudinator in her mind she could not help but feel slightly intimidated.

"That's not the only thing that's big," Langford said brazenly.

Vomit.

Camille moved in closer for a better look at the thing. The glossy black paint made it look almost like an alien device.

"So how does it work?"

"It's actually very simple," he explained, placing it on his head. "The process is automatic, and there is no need for any kind of activation switch or button." The blue coils glowed as the M.R.M. suddenly came to life. "Oh my, I just remembered that I forgot to leave a tip at the restaurant. I guess I was just a little bit eager to get out of there," he added coyly.

I'll bet.

"Do you think I can hold it? Just to get a first hand feel for what it's like?"

"Of course. Just be careful not to place it on your own head. While it is safe there is no reason to use it on anyone other than myself until it is absolutely one hundred percent tested."

"Sure thing," she said as she examined the thing. She found what she was looking for.

"Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to just use the washroom for a moment," he said almost excitedly as he stepped out of the room.

Camille set the device down as she exhaled. She looked around for how she was going to finish the job. At this point there was only one thing left to do. While the scientist was in the bathroom no doubt preparing for what he believed would be the best night of his life, Camille had access to his prized machine. What a fool men were when it came to the opposite sex.

She found a heavy wrench sitting on one of the work benches. That would do nicely. She stepped away from the tables and waited for Langford to return.

When he did emerge from the washroom he started approaching the table that the M.R.M. sat on. With the hands on demonstration over he imagined that they would be getting to the true hands on portion of the night.

"So, did you get all of the pictures you need for your article?" he asked as he neared the table.

His only answer came in the form of hard steel to the back of his skull. He fell forward and flat onto his face. Camille went over and checked his pulse to make sure the blow had not killed him. It had not, but there was a tiny amount of blood forming on the back of his head.

"Nighty night, doc," she said as she went back to the table where the M.R.M. sat.

Of course she could have just left the moment that he had left the room. However she knew that he would only have been gone momentarily. And the instant he returned to find her and his machine missing he would have called the police. Even with the ability to change faces, Camille was not going to take the chance of being caught so soon after stealing the thing. Now this way she had plenty of time to waltz right out of the building and make her getaway. By the time the scientist woke up she and his precious device would be long gone. And there would be no trace of her for the police to follow.

She left with the M.R.M. tucked underneath one of her arms. Her car was waiting in a nearby parking lot, left there hours earlier in anticipation for making her escape tonight. She placed the device on the passenger's seat before getting in herself. Another job well done. Another victory. To what end she still did not know.

She could only figure that Gemini wanted to remember something. The freak had an unhealthy habit of bringing up past childhood grievances with his estranged younger sister from Global Justice. Maybe he wanted to remember all of the things he could whine and complain about to her in their next face to face meeting.

Tires squealed as she sped from the parking lot. While en route she changed her face from the blonde newspaper writer back to her normal blonde villain self. When she reached a red light she rolled down her window and spat onto the street. She could still taste the man in her mouth from when she had kissed him. Such aftereffects were always a downside to her talents.

Well, not always...

She smiled at the thought.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ron was busy at his locker gathering the books he would need for his final couple of classes. Another school day was nearly over. He was thankful for it. It had not been particularly bad day. It was the same old thing. At this point in his high school career he was on autopilot for most of the day. His classes were not too hard. He felt that he had earned the right to pick the easiest courses necessary in order to have the credits needed to graduate. After all, he had put in over a decade of his life into the educational system. Senior year was a year to coast. And he intended to do just that.

It had also been several days since he or Kim had heard anything from Global Justice. At least he assumed Kim had heard nothing. Otherwise she would have shared it with him, right? He thought so at least. Despite the fact that Kim was the one member of their duo who Global Justice wanted on their staff, he felt that she would not withhold information from him when it was a situation that directly involved him. He freely admitted he was at the center of the Camille Leon mess. He still wondered how it would all play out.

He knew that if she continued on the path that she was on that there would be no saving her. Despite his best efforts to try and help her, to rescue her from the life of villainy that she had chosen, she simply did not seem to care. It was all a game to her. It always had been. He feared that it always would be. To her taking over the world was not something to aspire to. It was all about manipulation. It was about getting what she wanted out of people. She did it very well, to a point. He could not help but feel that one of the reasons she was so effective was because she did not fear any sort of consequences. She never truly felt she would get caught. After all, she could change her face to impersonate anyone in the world. It would be very hard to catch her in the act. It would be hard to find any sort of incriminating evidence against her. It was always her other faces that did the deed. It was always her other personalities. Why would she feel fear or hold anything back when there was never a risk of getting her own celebrity hands dirty?

In the end he thought that no news was good news. It meant that there was no bad news. And that was good. He hoped that things would stay silent. He hoped that all of the business between Global Justice and the Worldwide Evil Empire would just go away. He wanted no part in it all. He had no role to play in it. And even if he was made a part of it he was at constant war with himself about his own worth to Team Possible.

Despite the fact that Kim now called him her partner he knew that he was still the same sidekick he has always been. He had no martial arts skills. At least none that he could tap into. When he had been under the influence of the Attitudinator he was able to fight and be a match for even Shego. How or why he did not know. It was one of the unexplainable mysteries in his life. Nor was he a genius or computer expert like Wade was. The only times he even used technology to his advantage against villains was when he accidently pressed a button or knocked something over. Global Justice had once called it the "Ron Factor". They had since dismissed it as a non-factor. Part of him felt angry about that and wanted to demand to know what right they had to judge him based on nothing but second hand video footage and data. They weren't the ones accompanying Kim on missions. They weren't the ones fighting bad guys and stopping doomsday devices. He was. Only he could know the full truth.

He was happy to see a friendly face approaching as Monique neared his locker. She along with Kim shared a number of classes with him. Unfortunately these did not include the final two classes, where only he and Kim were together. So this would be the last time seeing her before the end of the day.

"Hey, Ron," she greeted him with a smile.

"What's up, Monique," he replied as he shut his locker door. "Any plans for after school? Or are you working again?"

"Duty calls," she sighed. "But hey, gotta love the money I'm raking in."

"I wish I had money..." he lamented. "I'm stuck using these coupon books sometimes..."

"No wonder you're rolling in the ladies."

Ron let out a sarcastic laugh. "Very funny. If only it were that simple..."

"Hey don't worry about that. A guy as great as you is bound to get the attention of the ladies sooner or later."

It was unusual for Ron to lower his machismo shield when on this topic. But around someone as close as Monique it was not a problem.

"You really think so?"

"I know so. And you don't need to be the knight in shining armor either. You don't have to be a great fighter like Kim. I'm just so thankful that she was there to protect me against those evil goons."

Ron softly cleared his throat. "Yeah. But remember I was there too."

"Oh," Monique said suddenly. "Right. Yeah."

"I escorted you home from the danger," he insisted. "I'd say that's a pretty brave thing to do."

"No, no, Ron. I totally remember. It's just that, nevermind."

"What?"

Monique's voice dropped to a more timid volume. "No it's nothing. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up at all."

But it was too late. The subject was already on the table and Ron was going to press the issue.

"Did you know that Kim turned down a job at Global Justice because of me? It's because we're such a good team. She said so herself. We're partners."

Kim was approaching the two as Ron's voice was rising. She had a curious expression as she looked at Monique expecting some sort of explanation.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean anything by it. I'm glad you were there too."

"Save it. I don't need pity. I'm a valuable member of the team. I'll prove it. Just wait and see."

Ron stormed off with his books in hand away from the two girls. Kim had still not uttered a word as she watched him leave. She looked back at Monique.

"Care to explain?" she asked.

"Um... Ron is just being Ron?" she offered unsurely.

Kim sighed. She knew that Ron had been having doubts about his worth from time to time. The fact that Global Justice wanted only her and not him seemed to be reinforcing them.

"Don't take it personally. He's been going through a lot lately. All this hero and villain stuff can build up. Especially when he was at the middle of it all just a few months ago."

"I understand. No hard feelings. Tell him that I said that when you two are together next period, will you?"

"Of course. But if he's still in a mood I might just hang with him alone after school. Just to help set him straight."

"Sure. I work today anyway."

Kim smiled at that. "And I might stop by Club Banana tonight. So if I do I'll see you then too."

"Okay. See ya."

"Later, Monique."

The two parted ways to go to their respective classes. Kim had seen Ron overreact before, but it was seldom to someone he was close with. Even rarer was it about something that they were not even at fault for. She still did not know the whole story. She supposed that she would need to get their respective sides before she could form any accurate conclusion. But for the moment her initial thought was that Ron was overreacting. Ron was just being Ron, as Monique had put it. She only hoped that she could help him through this new phase in their team dynamic.

XXXXXXXXXX

After a long day of school and work Monique was thrilled to get home. She did not like to spend much time at home for a number of reasons. She had never really been one to sit around doing nothing. She liked to be out. She liked to be amongst the crowds. She liked to party. Sadly this current life she was living offered little of that. Too many rules and regulations. Too many restrictions for a girl her age. Thankfully that was about to end.

Being at home meant that she could once again put on her natural face. As natural as it got when your flesh was able to melt and reshape before your very eyes.

Camille watched herself in the mirror as her ebony skin turned to her own tanned flesh. Black became blonde and brown became ice blue. It took only a matter of seconds to return to the face that she had been born with. She still examined it for any signs of bruising or scars. Kim was responsible for that. Even months after she had been repeatedly punched in the face by the redhead, Camille still felt the results of her beating on her face. It was a strange feeling that she could not shake. Her scars were psychological rather than physical. It vexed her that she was being attacked on such a level. She was supposed to be the master of mind games while Kim was the Amazon brute. Only in this instance Kim's attacks had a nasty psychological side effect as well.

When she once more found nothing she smiled and turned the lights off. Tonight was going to be a good night. As a reward for a job well done she had been given permission by Senior to have a little bit of fun time with her new friend. She had not seen this friend in several weeks despite the fact that she had still been in this house the entire time. Camille still found it odd that she willingly chose to obey the rules and boundaries set down by her grandfather. Even if she could not physically overpower Agent Iota, the man which Gemini had sent to watch over and protect them, she could still have found other ways to break the rules. She was Camille Leon after all. Rules did not apply to her. Rules were for the peasants which she looked down upon. And despite the fact that she had been disowned by her parents she had found a new source of wealth and security. She would never be a peasant, a commoner. She could always manipulate her way into a better life if need be.

She needed this tonight. She needed to vent some steam. After having to endure the dull and monotonous lectures given by Dr. Langford over dinner she truly felt like she deserved this. She had earned this. It felt strange to earn something when she had been given or stolen everything else in her life. But then again she had technically been earning money for the past several weeks while working at Club Banana.

She opened the door and stepped into the room which contained a single figure bound to a chair. Agent Iota had ensured that the meeting would be one on one and that the other girl was safely restrained. And despite all of the nasty words she had shared with him she knew that he took his orders from Gemini. And those orders were to obey Senor Senior Sr. And her grandfather would allow no harm to come to the heir of his evil empire.

Camille took another chair and spun it around so she could sit down backwards in it. She bent over slightly to place an object on the floor with a dull thump. Leaning her chest against the back of the chair she looked amusedly into the eyes of Monique.

"Hey, girl," she said mockingly. "It's been a while since we've spoken face to face."

"So you finally decide to show your face," Monique said bitterly. "Your real face too. To what do I owe this treat?"

"Oh it's nothing special, really. Just a little girl talk. Maybe I can fill you in on the latest gossip at school. I know how much you love that garbage."

"Shut up."

Camille chuckled. "Like, oh my God, Monique. Did you hear about how Bonnie is totally going out with that Brad guy from the football team? What do you think Brick thinks about that now that he's off at college?"

"What part of shut up don't you understand?"

"So rude. But I suppose it's to be expected if you've been cooped up in your own home for the past few weeks."

"What do you even want from me?"

"Honestly? This all started out as petty revenge," Camile admitted. "You were one of Kim's allies back in the day. You helped her against me. That fact alone meant that you were in my crosshairs once I came back to Middleton."

"Petty is right. Also psychotic."

Camille ignored the jab. Instead she continued with her explanation. "But then I realized that I could use you. Not the actual you, because let's be honest here. You're absolutely worthless. I've learned two things since I've taken over your life that day Kim almost trampled me at the mall searching for The Supreme One. You serve two purposes in your pathetic existence. Want to know what they are?"

"I'm sure you're about to tell me whether I like it or not."

"Smart girl. The first is that you work at Club Banana. That's like your whole life. Do you know how easy it is to be you? All you have to do is know about fashion. And since I'm already an expert at that it was so totally simple to replace you. How does that make you feel? To know that you are completely expendable. A little advice on the fall fashion season and knowing how to work a damn cash register at your menial retail job was the extent of infiltrating your life."

Monique was silent. Camille assumed that she had been wounded by the verbal assault. But she was only getting started.

"And the second thing is that you're just someone for Kim to talk to when Ron isn't around. Even wonder about that? How Kim only comes to you when Ron isn't available? How she only comes to you when she wants to do something related to fashion? And the conclusion I've come to is that you're an even bigger loser than what people claim Ron is because at least Ron is Kim's partner. At least he isn't second place or second best. That's your role, Monique. You're the backup friend. You're the simple, one-dimensional fashion girl who probably doesn't have a thought in her pretty little head that doesn't involve what shirt and what pants look good together."

Monique was visibly deflated. The anger and defiance that were in her voice previously were suddenly gone when she spoke. "That's not true," she said. "None of that is. You don't know me at all."

"I don't know you?" Camille laughed. "I've been you for weeks. And no one has noticed a difference! Like I said. Totally replaceable."

Camille knew that those words bit hard into Monique's emotions. They were true after all. No one had come looking for her. No one seemed to notice that Camille was playing the role of the ebony teen. But she could not look weak. Not with the blonde sitting right there in front of her. She had to keep her composure.

"So what now then? You've said what you have to say. Are you done?"

Camille picked up the object she had set on the floor earlier before standing up. It was revealed the be a book, which she opened and began thumbing through the pages.

"I've been told that if I ever want to take over the family business that I need to learn the proper traits to do so," she said as she skimmed through the pages of her own copy of The Book of Evil. "Now what does the book say I should do in this situation..." she muttered to herself.

Monique stared daggers at her for long seconds as Camille buried her face in the large mustard-yellow book. After a little while longer she snapped it shut and looked back up at the other girl.

"Ah yes, of course," she said knowingly. "I must talk about my plans to my captured foe. I must gloat, I must rant, I must divulge the details of exactly what I am going to do next and how I intend to do so. You must know my goals and my endgame. So are you ready, girlfriend?"

She was met with only more hateful silence from Monique. Camille laughed once more at the response of her captive.

"Yeah, like I would ever do that," she said as she tossed the book aside. "That book must have been written by a complete moron. What if you escaped? What if you told Kim everything? My plans would be ruined. And while I appreciate the lessons it intends to teach I think I'll just go ahead and ignore that stupid rule."

"So are we done?" Monique said again.

"Oh you're no fun. I guess you just need some time to digest the massive load of truth I've laid down on you. Don't worry. I'll bring you some chocolate. Chocolate helps us gals through the tough emotional times. And then we'll bring you back to your parents and you can ask them if they think you're as worthless as the rest of the world does."

That seemed to be the breaking point for Monique. "Shut up," she hissed. "Just shut up and get out of here."

Camille finally seemed satisfied. "Sure thing, Mon." She turned to leave the room, but looked back before exiting. "I'm sure we'll talk again soon. By then I'll have more juicy details about the cheer squad and all of the most popular kids in school! And we'll give each other makeovers and braid each other's hair and-"

"Just shut up!" Monique screamed.

The blonde put her hands up defensively if only to mock the other girl. "Okay, okay. No need to get all nasty about it."

She laughed again as she closed the door. With her tormenter finally gone Monique was able to break down and began sobbing quietly to herself.